Line Between Light and Shadow
by Steam Powered Crow
Summary: A young man is ensnared by a dark ritual, forever caught between his righteous ideals and his corrupt impulses.


_Author's Note: Hello, readers. Steam Powered Crow here with my first story. I got back into Skyrim recently and my muse struck. So I hope you enjoy, and flame will be used to temper my blade._

**Disclaimer: I do not know _Skyrim_ or any other property of Bethesda Softworks. I do know my OCs and original content such as spells, weapons and armors. **

An ancient looking man sat besides a campfire near the opening of a cave, waiting. Even while resting his breath was shallow and raspy. His eyes were weary and clouded with cataracts, his brow wrinkled in thought. Sweat gathered upon it, as if he was exerting some effort. His gnarled hands moved in jerking motions and silent words left his lips. Suddenly, he smiled, crooked yellowed teeth a sharp contrast to his pale skin.

"Soon", he rasped before he stood up, an audible crack emanating from his joins as he did. "And not a moment to soon", he murmured as he entered the cave. The cave was simple, a large open area with a stone table prominent in the center, surrounded by unlit torches. The man frowned at this and with a flick of his hand and a grunt, fire sparked from between his fingers and flew to the nearest torch, lighting it before the stream of fire snaked around to the remaining torches.

He made his way to the table, standing behind it with his hands resting upon it's surface. He did not wait long, for a pair of zombies hauling a third body between them. The corpses were wearing simple leather armor bearing scorch marks. Likewise the reanimated men had burns upon their cold flesh, marking how they had died. The figure between them was a young man, barely out of his youth, wearing the standard attire of a Vigilant of Stendarr. He had short brown hair and the shadow of a beard. A cut adorned the left side of his face, recently dried blood caked on it.

The old man wore a wicked smile at the sight of his victim. "Ha," he exclaimed, "how fitting that my new vessel would be one of those Vigilants!" He directed his gaze to his minions, "Place him on the table and return to your posts." The zombies did as they were commanded and took up positions at the entrance of the cave, one on either side. The old man set about his dark purpose, dark energies gathering around his hands as he moved them. Like a weaver to cloth, the magic began to take shape, a black web between his withered fingers, thrumming with sickening cold. He then placed his left hand upon his own chest, directly over his heart, his right hand mirroring the action on the youth. When the dark magic infused hand touch the young Vigilant he shuddered as if a cold suddenly fell. Then the dark mage spoke, his voice resounding of the cave walls.

"Art of Blackest Night, Threads of Coldest Shadows, Endless Hunger, bind two souls to one form, give fangs to devour. Mighty Vaermina, Queen of the Mind, by your Power and in your Honor, I. Evul Ganvarous, consume this soul and command his form!" As the last words left his mouth, a cold wind whipped around the stone table, an otherworldly squall, as the dark spell woven thread pulled at Evul, an aura of shadows gathering around him. Evul's body began to convulse before falling to the ground, the shadowy aura remaining upright, before it was pulled to the young man on the table by the dark thread. As the shadow made contact with the Vigilant, its heart meeting his, a light emanated from an amulet hidden under the man's robes. An amulet rose up, the source of the light, made of simple wood and bearing a carving of a chalice being poured.

A scream tore from the mouth of the young man, a horrifying sound as two voices could be heard, one of an old man, one of a youth. The shadow began to wither in the light, its form writhing as if in pain, trying to dig into the screaming youth. As it's from continued to fade, the screaming changed, still loud, but now one voice, the younger louder than the older. With a last burst of radiance, the amulet shined, shattering and consuming the shadow. The screaming ceased and all was quite in the cave.

A young man, wearing traveling robes with a mace at his hip wheeled wildly around, his dark eyes trying in vain to see anything in the dark wood he found himself in. "Velnor" he shouted, "Katharis, where are you!" Neither companion answered and his panic grew. He continued to call for his fellow Vigilants, as the air around him grew cold. Suddenly, a sharp wind began to blow, scathingly cold, it ripped though the young man like a knife. He closed his eyes in pain, and when he opened them, he saw an old man begin to approach him from around 100 feet away.

Before he could call out the approaching figure, dark threads began to wrap around his, binding his limbs and gagging him. Eyes wide with terror, he watched the old man approach. With every step, the man's age began to regress. Thin white hair grew back upon his head before the became thicker and darker. Worn down yellow teeth grew white and full once more. Ten feet from the bound man, a strong looking man stood, in the height of his youth. As he took a step further, his form changed. In place of the man was a Breton woman. Another step and he was now an Argonian. He walked closer still and a Khajiit took his place. He stop after one more step, within arms reach and now he was a Dunmer, of average height and long dark red hair.

His dark eyes glittered with madness as he lifted his arm and brought his hand to rest just before touching the bound man. "You no long exist," he said mater-of-factually, " but I'll take good care of your body." With a wicked smile, the dark elf closed the last few inches, his hand now touching the young man's chest. Pain like cold fire burned the Vigilant, his screams of pain muffled by the gag of dark magic, his skin starting to become the color of the dark elf. Suddenly, a blinding white light illuminated the forest, the light setting fire to the Dunmer and burning away the dark magic. The dark mage screamed as he burned, unable to move, his screams now echoed by the Vigilant as his gag faded away. The light flashed brighter, reducing the Dunmer and the dark threads to ash. The young man collapsed to the ground, his skin returning to it's natural hue.

In the cave, upon the stone table, the young man's eyes shot open. He bolted up, heart racing, his eyes straining to see in the dark. As his breath began to even out, he looked down to his still shaking hands, his eyes wide. "Where am I", he said aloud, "Who am I?"


End file.
